Not Broken - Just Bent
by Alexandria Tribale
Summary: A Fenders story. Anders and Fenris have both suffered greatly in this world and share a kinship of blatant abuse. What they need is to get past their hate towards one another to heal one another. Dating back Pre-Origins to DA2 and perhaps beyond. First chapters are comparisons of their lives. [Terrible Summary]
1. The Crime of Living

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age and its universe is the creation of the people from Bioware and not mine. I make not profit in writing this.

**Rated M: **This is for the graphic nature of the story. There will be plenty of violence, language, and sex in the coming chapters. So have fun.

**Author Notes: **Alternating POVs between Anders & Fenris

**Chapter One: The Crime of Living**

Anders woke, cold. It was cold with a chill from the everlasting dank stone walls of the circle tower's basement cells. Quiet with concentration, Anders laid against the wall of his cell with lyrium-infused shackles around both his wrists and neck. A crude and terrible device used by the templars to prevent a mage from using any sort of magic. This had been his fifth attempt at escape, thus the harsher than usual punishment. He had gotten as far as High Hill before one of Knight-Commander Greagoir's lackeys had swooped down and forced him back to the circle tower.

Next escape, he would be wise to go to Denerim and find his phylactery.

Anders curled into a small tight ball, hugging himself to ease the growing strain across his shoulders. A small groan escaped the young man as he slowly forced himself to relax, muscle by muscle, and joint by joint. There was a presence in the air that Anders could not quite put his finger on. With a bit of effort from the mage he managed to lift his face that was buried into his chest and lazily opened his eyes. Amber was greeted with daring blue.

"…Maker, say something next time. Or were you just admiring the view?" Anders spoke with certain hoarseness in his voice, but still managed to add in a touch of humor.

Before him was the slight figure of a young woman with skin of alabaster and hair of silky ebony. Anders had seen the young woman a number of times around the tower but had never really spoken to her due to him being a full-fledge mage and her still an apprentice. What was her name? That was right, it was Solona. She was a pretty little thing, but far too quiet. It was unnerving. Until she flashed a small smile and Anders felt more relaxed. There was something in her hands, but the darkness prevented him from seeing as to what it was.

"…I just wanted to bring you this. Since you'll be down here a while." She spoke softly and brought the object through the bars. It was a small, square-shaped, hand-embroidered pillow. The pillow his mother gifted him with before being taken by the templars all those years ago.

Anders shifted from his position with another pained groan as he moved closer to the bars of his cell, scooting his legs across the stone floors that were distorted with dirt and a bit of molded straw. He gingerly accepted the soft, but lumpy, pillow into his hands. Her fingers grazed across his scarred ones and there was such gentleness in her eyes. His heart panged. "T-thank you." Anders mumbled as he leaned against the cold steel bars and continued to enjoy the small physical comfort she offered him.

Despite not even really knowing one another they were able to give each other a bit of solace.

* * *

Fenris had been in an incredible amount of pain. His dreams that night had been plagued with the fade, but with a sweet distant sound of a song. As to what it was, it was hard to tell. It hummed and reverberated around him as if it were coming from his very being. There were shadows in the mist and a name being called, but it was lost to his ears. As much as he ran towards these shadows, they eluded his chase. Why couldn't he reach them? It seemed important.

_Leto._

Eyes of emerald shot open and all memory of the dream were lost to him. A silent scream escaped his throat as the pain continued to sear throughout his entire body as he sat up from the cot he currently occupied. Wild eyes searched around him and for the life of him, he could not remember where he was. None of it seemed familiar. He hadn't even a clue as to how he had gotten himself there. For that matter, he could not seem to remember himself.

Brows scrunched together in an annoyed fashion as bare feet swung off the cot and landed softly upon the marbled floor. A hiss of pain escaped him. That was when he noticed a faint blue glow. Where was it coming from? Eyes looked over his bare thighs, legs, and feet. He was glowing. Was this normal? No, that did not seem right.

In a mild panic Fenris stood to only have his legs give way beneath him and land upon the floor with a small thud. His entire nude form writhed in extremely pain. This time his voice found itself way to the surface as he howled out a piercing screaming that sounded bestial.

"I see my little wolf has finally awakened."

Sprawled out on the floor the nude form of the elf weakly looked up towards the source of the voice. What stood before him, it was the only thing he could remember. His little bit of assurance in his existence of the world. Yes. This man was what he needed. His master.

"Master Danarius…?" His voiced sounded incredibly pathetic, but it seemed to please the magister all the same.


	2. Cruel Masters

**Chapter 2: Cruel Masters**

"You need to learn your place _Apostate_."

The utterance of these words was swiftly followed by a kick to the gut. The air emptied from Ander's lungs, which left him gulping for breath as his legs hit the floor beneath him in a loud thud. His arms nursed his abdomen as the now slightly older Anders nursed himself on the floor. He had yet another unsuccessful attempt of escape. This time he had nearly gotten half-way to Denerim. But no further. No matter how many times he endeavored to break free, they always found him. This time it was the woman templar, Rylock. If he hadn't known better he would have thought the woman was sweet on him. As of late she was always in the accompaniment of the mage-hunters whenever he'd managed to get off the circle grounds.

Perhaps he had been mistaken?

Another clash of metal-plated boot against his side confirmed this new line of reasoning. Another groan escaped him as he was sure she had just cracked a few of his ribs. With the slightest of movements there was agonizing pain shooting from the region of his side. Yes, they were indeed broken and would need to be mended immediately. Or perhaps this would finally be the end? For a moment Anders contemplated death as being a good option. At least he'd be out of his misery.

The clanking of metal foot-steps echoed around the damp stone walls around them. "That's enough. Fetch a healer and leave him here to reflect." The voice ordered out. It was the Knight-Commander himself. Anders attempted a snort as he sorely sat up on the dirtied floor and snuck a glance to find Greagoir glaring at him. But there was something else there. He was sure he knew that look. It was pity. He had received it enough from First-Enchanter Irving, he did _not _want it from a templar.

"You do not realize how lucky you are, mage. Irving insists that you are not a threat. If it had been just my decision I'd have you made tranquil."

That was more like it. Anders silently scoffed, but the fear of being made tranquil plagued that back of his mind. He had seen the tranquil mages near the stockroom. They did not even look to be alive with monotonous voices and blank, expressionless eyes that unnerved him greatly. Their connection to the fade had been severed with a lyrium brand and their dreams forever silenced. "…I'd rather you'd just cut me down." Anders muttered with downcast eyes. Besides, he passed his harrowing! Threatening tranquility was going too far.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. We do this to protect you, from yourself."

"And yet I wish to rule over nothing!" Anders screamed out, sick of the words he often heard. The blonde mage slumped down further onto the floor as he had only managed to hurt himself more. Before additional words could be uttered to further this growing argument there was the quiet footsteps and emergence of the First-Enchanter and a mage that Anders did not readily recognize. He stayed motionless with the glower enduring upon his features.

"My, all this excitement as of late. Greagoir, we can handle it from here." Irving chided the Knight-Commander who reluctantly muttered a complaint before giving a small angered scoff. "We'll talk, later." It was all Greagoir said before leaving the two mages to deal with the rabble-rouser of a mage.

For the time being Anders remained quiet as the mage beside Irving moved closer to him with a soft blue-green glow of her healing magic. He regarded a momentary look as his brows scrunched together and the frown did not soften. Where was Wynne? It was usually the kindly spirit healer they fetched to help. His gaze shifted away from the healer as she started to remove his robes to reveal an extensive show of brightly colored bruises, ranging from deep reds, blackest blue, and tinged green over lightly tanned skin. All and all it was not a very pretty sight.

The beginning of his healing session was of him being scolded by the First-Enchanter, but near the end Irving was kind enough to inform of the latest news of the tower. A Darkspawn horde, which seemed exceedingly incredible, threatened to the south of Ferelden and hence why Wynne and many of the other senior mages were absent from the tower all at one time and it also explained the neophyte healer.

Even Solona had departed with a Grey Warden prior that very morning! What in Andraste's tits was going on? For a moment Anders wondered if it was an extensive cover-up. The templars had merely gotten rid of all the good mages in one fell swoop. But that sounded far more paranoid than his usual thoughts and so the mage brushed them aside as the soothing fingers of the novice covered his temple.

Anders sighed out softly and permitted his bright amber eyes to shut peacefully as he focused on the nimble healing fingers working their magic. He vaguely listened further to what Irving was communicating to him, but in all honestly he was going in and out of consciousness the longer he sat upon the floor.

The next thing Anders remembered was the vision of the dim and ominous stone ceiling above. There was a coldness that clung to the air around him and an eerie quiet to the place. He would be experiencing solitary confinement for a full year. That was what Irving had spoken to him earlier in this cell. The only outsiders he'd see would be the fearsome faces of the templars. His entire body shook in the cramped cot. No mages, not even Irving would be permitted to visit. Not unless it was truly important, and there rarely was a cause for such things. Or perhaps a daring mage would come and visit. Most were gone, but Karl. That was enough to put Ander's at ease. Yes, as long as Karl was still within the tower he would have hope.

Teeth clattered raucously as Ander's gripped the moth-eaten rag of a blanket around his slender body. The entirety of his being ached from the earlier beating he had received from Rylock and the other templars. He knew by the end of the year he'd receive more brutal treatment, without a healer to aid him after. At least they had been so kind to leave the shackles off of him for this night. How lucky for him. Anders muttered against his chattering teeth and shifted to find the small embroidered pillow beneath his head. Irving had remembered. His expression softened for a moment before he grabbed the pillow and hugged it against his chest in a childish fashion and in that moment he cursed the existence of magic with all the pain it had caused him.

As the tears welled up in those distressed honey-colored eyes there was a small pitter-patter of feet that paused near the edge of Ander's cot. "Mreow?" A gentle sniffle escaped the blonde mage as glanced over the edge to find a fluffy gray cat below. It was Mr. Wiggums, the tower's mouser cat and for now it would be his only companion it seemed. His hand left the safety of his blanket and let his fingers gently stroke the soft gray fur on top of the cat's head, which earned a pleased purr in response.

"If only you were a ferocious wild-cat, Mr. Wiggums."

* * *

"That is quite the stud you have there, he must come from quality stock."

Magister Danarius and another lower-ranked magister were talking above a balcony as Fenris and another slave were sparring down below in an arena setting. It was a private arena that Danarius himself had set up to hold death matches of slave fighters. It was another endeavor to show off his prized-possession of the lyrium-infused elf he had been cultivated over the last couple of years.

"Indeed, he is. But the boy is still not quite at the level that I require in my slaves." Danarius chuckled in an almost wicked way as he held his hand up to gather the attention of the two slaves below. Fenris lowered the large two-handed sword in his grip while the other slave, a male human, lowered his own sword and shield to await further orders of the men above them.

"Fenris, kill him."

The human slave's mouth gaped at the order and glanced towards his sparring partner. A look of terror was forever etched onto his features as a clawed gauntlet phased right on through his chest and grasped the still beating organ into his hand, which was crushed immediately. Blood spewed between the lips of the human as the clawed hand was ripped out from the center of his chest and the dead slave crumpled onto the floor in a small puddle of his own blood. Fenris took little notice of his now blood soaked hand as he strapped the broadsword to his back and monotonously awaited further instructions from Danarius. The older magister could be seen and heard laughing at the display while the man beside him looked horrified and in awe at the same time. Yes, another little power display for Danarius to lord over the others.

Fenris could really care less. He was a slave and Magister Danarius was his master. Whatever it was that the man desired he would give, even if it meant his own pain and life. Since he had awoken that day he had not a single memory of his past life and hadn't once thought of it, not even now. What was the use of a slave to have such memories? They would prove to be nothing but a large problem, for both himself and Danarius.

As the two magisters disappeared from the top balcony Fenris moved away from the human corpse, allowing two other slaves to take care of the mess, and moved through the halls and found his way up the stairs to reunited by the side of his mage master. Along the way it was sure to grab a bottle of Agreggio Pavali. He was sure the man would want some after the show, he always did. As the elf reached the top floor and meeting room he found that the two magisters were sitting in plush chairs and chatting quietly with one another.

"Ah, good timing Fenris. Pour our friend Balthazar a drink." Danarius responded with a joyful gleam in his cold eyes. Yes, his master seemed to enjoy making others very uncomfortable. Fenris could see the other mage tense in his chair and a slightly frightened expression crossing his features, but were quickly hidden away with a small polite smile. The man should be scared, especially after the earlier display with the fellow slave he had so callously struck down with his rather unique abilities.

With a curt nod Fenris moved closer to the two magister with nimble movements, but his posture was just terrible. He was slouched to make him appear much smaller than he actually was. With the bottle of wine in hand he moved closer to the younger mage known as Balthazar and paused near his side, eyes kept averted as he had been instructed. The blood on his clawed gauntlet still lingered on the metal, beginning to dry and becoming tacky in texture. The young magister was sure to take notice as his goblet was being filled with wine. He seemed to shrink back further into the expensive velveteen chair. It was rather pathetic. Fenris then moved on to fill Danarius' goblet and kept quiet as the two continued to talk after the long moment of tense silence.

"As I was saying, I'll be taking a trip to Seheron to acquire an artifact from those barbarians…" Danarius had begun to say, but immediately cut himself off with a small hiss escaping him. Fenris nearly jumped at the displeased sound, knowing he had done something to displease his master. He hadn't averted his eyes properly again.

The magister's hand began to glow with magical power and the lyrium brand that covered his body began to glow brightly with that faint blue hue. A scream of agony escaped Fenris as he crumpled to the ground, the bottle of wine smashed to the floor alongside him with the shards embedded upon his bare arm and drew blood. The pain seared through to his mind and he feared to lose consciousness again. "F-forgive me…" the elf pleaded softly as he writhed upon the marbled floors. He had done something to displease his master, he must beg for forgiveness.

"Do not mistake yourself for an equal, _slave_. Now ask for it properly." Danarius all but hissed. Surely this man was more demon than human any longer.

Moss-colored eyes hazily sought out the figure of his master and whimpered out in further pain. "P-please….m-master…" Fenris somehow managed to choke out between the shocks of pain that coursed his wiry frame. Thankfully with this submission the glow of the lyrium seemed to die down and the pulses of pain subsided for the moment, leaving the tanned elf twitching and convulsing upon the floor.

"That's much better, my little wolf. Now come here."

The order had been issued and through the pain that lingered Fenris managed to pick himself up from the floor, at least his upper body, and crawled his way closer to Danarius. This seem to please the old magister all the more as his lips curled into twisted delight of having the elf crawl. The lecherous man patted his lap lightly to towards Fenris as his gaze focused back upon Balthazar with a throaty chuckle as he felt Fenris lay his face his lap in a submissive fashion.

"Yes, he still needs a little more handling before he's perfect."


	3. Fleeting Freedom

**Chapter 3: Fleeting Freedom**

Anders had awoken abruptly, his head ached and eyes were blurred with the sleep that lingered in his amber hues. His mouth was also unbelievably dry and he had been sweating profoundly in his restless sleep. He had an immediate memory of the horrid nightmare that plagued him nightly now, ever since his Joining of the grey wardens. Not to mention the constant stomach pains that accompanied nightmare-filled sleep. Oh and the whole being tainted forever thing was something to also think about.

"Andrastes' tits, this was not in the brochure…" Anders muttered sourly as his stomach complained loudly, echoing around his room in Vigil's Keep.

The mage grumbled silent curses as he brushed his hair away from his face as he rose from bed and with deft fingers he pulled his dirty-blonde hair back with a hair-tie. A midnight snack was in order, or he would surely perish before the night gave out.

"Mew?"

Anders paused near the doorframe and gave a sideways glance and smile towards the small orange tabby cat that stretched itself out before plopping down to the ground from the bed and padded up behind him in a loyal fashion. Without much thought he knelt down and scooped the kitten up into his arms and cuddled the soft creature against his chest as he left his room and headed in the direction of the kitchens for snacks.

"Mph, you're getting heaver Ser Pounce."

"Meow!"

Anders could only chuckle lightly at the small conversation between the two of them as he neared the kitchens and paused to find someone silhouetted against the kitchens' fireplace. It was the shambling corpse of poor ole Kristoff.

"Andraste's knicker-weasels, Justice! You scared me, what are you doing here?"

"I do not require sleep as you humans do." Justice stated in a matter-of-fact sort of way. The fade spirit glanced in his direction and greatly unnerved Anders as his shoulders tensed a moment before the mage sighed heavily and plopped Ser Pounce-A-Lot onto the nearby wooden countertop.

"It can't be sanitary to have you in the kitchens…" He murmured to himself as he moved to fetch a small saucer and fresh cream for his cat. As much as he was intrigued by the fade spirit known as Justice, he still couldn't get past the whole possessing a corpse. Not to mention the stench that came with it, not that it hampered his hunger any.

"Have you thought more of your brethrens plight?" The spirit inquired from his spot near the kitchens' fireplace. The line of questioning caused Anders to pause a moment as he laid the saucer of cream in front of the orange tabby, which mewed in delight before partaking. Nimble fingers stroked the soft fur as he regarded Justice a moment before he shrugged and went to the pantry to fetch himself a snack.

In all honesty, he hadn't really cared about the mages' quandary. Sure he had first hand witnessed and received the wraith of the templars, but to actively rebel and fight for their freedom? That just seemed like a recipe for disaster. Besides, he was a grey warden now! He was free from the circle and the templars without fear. Except for the plaguing nightmares. Oh and for horribly grotesque brood-mothers and talking darkspawn.

"Why worry when I have a pretty girl here, decent meals, and have plenty of opportunity to throw lightning at our enemies?" Anders joked lightly, referring to a previous conversation he held with Warden-Commander Amell. Who would have thought that little Solona would grow from being such a book-wormish and awkward girl into the strong-willed and daring woman she was now? Yes, he was quite content with where he was.

As long as they have your phylactery, are you really safe from _them_?

It had been a lingering thought that often beleaguered the back of his mind as of late. Anders could not help but wonder what would stop the Chantry from suddenly announcing that all grey warden mages were also apostates and to be taken back to the circle. He had even voiced this concern once to Solona, who in turn comforted him and promised, nothing like that would ever happen.

"So the mage is speaking in secret with the demon? How suspicious." A voice spat out from the entrance of the kitchens that caused Anders to yelp out in surprise. Justice merely glanced in the direction of the voice with what could only be a look of outrage.

"I am NO demon!"

"Of _course_ not."

The owner of the voice was that of Rolan. He was a former templar that had joined the grey wardens nearing three-weeks prior. If Anders hadn't known better he could have sworn that Rolan was sticking abnormally close to him and Justice. It was a definite red flag for the mage and was sure to stay on his guard around the new recruit.

"Oh yes, you've caught us. We were doing terrible sneaky-things involving apple pie." Anders scoffed lightly as his fork speared a piece of the tasty slice of confection he had fetched for himself out of the pantry earlier.

Rolan did not seem all that impressed with this reasoning as he scowled all the more, making him even less pleasant to look at. Really it was not all that hard as he hadn't been much of a looker to begin with.

"Honestly, all your eavesdropping is starting to make me think you've got a little crush on me." Anders continued with a wicked smirk gracing his tender lips. A waggle of his brows were added for effect and earned yet another irritated noise emitted from Rolan.

"Shut your mouth, mage!"

"Oh, don't be shy… I know how charming I can be. It's okay."

Rolan's face of what was a mixture of annoyance, vehemence, and a color that resembled that ofbaboon's bare arse. There was a sharp intake of air before it was released into an intense hiss from between the man's lips. It looked as if he were ready to attack the mage, but instead turned away from the duo in the kitchens.

"I'll leave you to your newest pet, _demon_." Rolan snapped harshly before he made a raucous withdraw from the kitchens and what appeared to be the direction of his sleeping quarters.

Anders could only snort loudly before stuffing his mouth full of baked apple and flaky crust. Justice on the other hand still looked to be seething from the demon comment. "That man is not worthy of the grey wardens. I am no demon." The fade spirit reconfirmed.

"It's okay Justice. I know you're not a demon. You are my friend."

* * *

The jungles of Seheron were among the beautiful sights that Fenris had ever laid his eyes upon. Not in all his years as Danarius' slave could he had imagined feeling so free and actually enjoy it. Without his master—former master—to lord over him he had grown more aware of his own feelings. No longer was he the cowed slave, but a man who could stand on his own. He was a man who had a life to choose whatever he wished to do with!

Thanks to his Fog Warrior brothers in arms.

They had actually bothered with saving his broken body from the wrecked shoreline that Danarius and his lackeys had fled to escape the Qunari attack. Whatever it was that Danarius was seeking had not been found and it resulted in him losing a very valuable investment in Fenris. The former-slave could not help but feel a bit of pleasure in that thought, which also seemed so impossible for him to feel.

The independent fighters of this island had really opened his eyes wide to the world. The warriors had taught him the wrongs of slavery and the evils of the Tevinter blood mages and magisters. Was it not a basic Chantry teaching that magic was a sin in the eyes of the maker? Then how was it that they had such a hold of power in Tevinter? It was an outrage! Give the mages an inch and they will greedily and forcefully take more.

"Fenris, you're looking much better my friend." A human warrior spoke as they trampled through the northern jungles of Seheron. He was a tall man of a muscular build, dark brown mop of hair, stubble, and piercing blue eyes.

"Yes," Fenris conceded as he flexed his right arm slightly, "most of my injuries have fully recovered. You have my thanks." The elf tilted his face a moment in regard to the human warrior, named Haydn. There was a question on his lips, but he seemed to hesitate in verbalizing it a moment. This caught the man's attention as they both stopped on the pathway back to base, their scavenging of fresh kill strapped to their belts.

"What is it?"

"…Why did you bother with saving a slave?"

The man seemed to be taken aback from the question before he chuckled softly with a shake of his head in response. After all these months he was surprised by how reluctant Fenris was in accepting the help that had been offered to him. He had seen it plenty of times with the other slaves that wound up on Seheron due to the fights for control over the land.

"Like we have told you, you are not a slave. No man deserves such a fate to mages." Haydn exclaimed heartedly towards the elf as he indicated that they continue to move. "Come now, let us go home and share our winnings from today's excursion." The warrior chuckled loudly as he patted the brown leather pouch on his belt and continued to schlep through the jungle's thick underbrush.

Fenris stood there a moment with a contemplative look on his face, but it soon turned into a soft grin—which disappeared as quickly as it came. Clearing his mind of worrisome thoughts Fenris took a deep breath, inhaling the wild scent of spice of the jungle, and exhaled slowly before he followed after his companion and new brother in arms.

Home. He had found a home to call his own.

* * *

There was blood. Maker, there was so much blood!

Anders had found himself sprawled out on the ground and covered in the crimson liquid. All around him the disembodied corpses of dead wardens laid. They looked as if their very being had been torn apart by some incredible force. The look of bewilderment crossed his features as the mage scrambled to his feet and looked around him for survivors.

_They need not your healing. _

"W-what…?" Anders whimpered out as he looked around him to find the source of the voice, only to find that he was very alone in the Wending Wood. When had he even gotten there? What had he been doing before this entire mess?

_We must move on—the mages' plight demands justice._

"J-justice…?" He mumbled in confusion and clutched his head between his nimble hands. It was then that it all came flooding back to the spirit healer. He had accepted Justice into him, a willing host. The two of them had talked about it for the last few months. It seemed the right thing to do. Kristoff's widow would have his body back to properly bury and Justice would have a friend he could take refuge within. But how had things gone so horribly wrong!?

Distressed filled eyes looked around him quizzically until he recognized the many faces among the dead. Rolan was among them. That was right. That bastard Rolan had cornered him after Justice and he had merged together in the woods. He had hoped to do the matter discreetly, but they were being watched. Rolan and his group came out and shouted they were working under the Divine's rule—called him an abomination that needed to be killed.

"No—they were wardens. This…this wasn't right!" Anders spoke aloud as horror feigned in his voice.

_They will die! I will have every last templar for their abuses! Every one of them will feel Justice's burn, together._

With so much blood upon his hands, warden blood, there would be no way for Anders to return to the Warden-Commander. He would have to run away once again.

* * *

How could he have done this?

Fenris was standing upon a small battlefield of corpses. The bodies of the Fog Warriors were all around him and he had caused their demise. The men and women who had taken him in and defended him against Danarius, were all dead.

His body burned with the faint glow of the lyrium brands upon his skin as his heart raced and pounded against his chest. It hurt. The throbbing in his chest was unbearable. How could he had done such a thing and for Danarius of all people? The man he hated more than anything in this world?

Sharp green eyes gazed over the battlefield and spotted his master immediately. He was still alive. How had he found him? It mattered not at this point. For a moment Fenris stepped closer to his master, but stopped in mid-stride. What was he going to do? Return to being the cowed slave? No, never!

Dark brows scrunched together and wrinkled his forehead as the Tevinter slave scowled angrily in the direction of his barely conscious master. He could easily kill the man right then and there. But a part of him feared if he went to close he'd lose what little freedom he had gained.

"Fasta vass!" He hissed angrily as he took this time to escape from the silent battlefield and swear on the dead warriors lives he had taken that Danarius would pay for his indiscretions.


	4. Of Abominations and Feral Dogs

**Author Notes: **FINALLY. Fenris and Anders first meet. Sorry for the slow start.

Again, I will be switching out POVs between Anders and Fenris.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Of Abominations and Feral Dogs**

Hawke had proven to be a formidable find in the corrupt city of Kirkwall. He had proven to be a fierce warrior against those slave-hunters from Tevinter and even from against the affects of blood magic. Hawke was a suitable ally to have against Danarius whenever the cowardly magister would dare to finally show his face. Even if Hawke's company were of the questionable sort. Sister a mage and comrades with that naïve blood mage. Questionable indeed.

Then again, Fenris had met Hawke under rather questionable circumstances. He had tricked the warrior into a trap that had been meant for him. Not the noblest of things, but it worked for his benefit. He had helped in disposing of the slavers that had tracked him down, but never would he have thought the man would offer to help confront his former master. Hawke was different from most he had met. He vaguely reminded him of Haydn back in Seheron.

The elf had been so moved by Hawke's actions that in return for his aid, he would pay the man back with his own services.

Like today, he was accompanying Hawke along with the guardswoman, Aveline, and the dwarf, Varric, into Low Town to seek information about a grey warden. He had never met a warden before, but had heard of the order before in the Imperium. They were an order of strong warriors who would give their lives to fighting off darkspawn, from his understanding. He would be lying if he wasn't in the least bit interested in meeting this warden.

"You're brooding again, Elf." Varric called out from over his stocky shoulder, which caught Fenris' attention with a small scowl of his own. Why was the dwarf so adamant in calling him broody?

"I am not 'brooding', dwarf. This is my natural face." Fenris snapped back grumpily.

"Really? Aveline, he's starting to scare me more than you do." Varric chuckled out jokingly, which earned a laugh from their leader and an agitated groan from the tall guardswoman.

"According to some of the refugee's around here that warden is running a clinic down in Darktown." Hawke suddenly spoke out towards both Aveline and Fenris, as Varric had tagged along earlier for that bit of new information on Deep Road maps.

_'A clinic? Interesting.'_

"Oh, I've heard of it… The templars have been stalking around it for some time now. The refugees are adamant on keeping him safe it seems. I can't really blame them." Aveline spoke about the matter as the group continued to walk in the direction winding stairs that led to the undercity of Kirkwall.

Fenris' brows scrunched together a moment at that comment. Templars were only concerned when mages were involved. Did that mean that this grey warden that they were off to meet was a mage? And Hawke knew this and brought him along anyway? "Venhedis…" The elf cursed lightly as he padded behind the group down the stone steps to the underbelly of the city.

The stench was what caught Fenris' attention first. It was a sour smell of sweat, despair, and not to mention the rotten odor of what he could have been horribly decayed carcasses. As to what, he could only hope that they were animal remains. Darktown was also filled with refugees. Squatting in Hightown really did have its benefits, not that he really had complained before.

The group stood out amongst the refugees and Fenris could feel certain eyes upon them, which made him, feel uneasy.

"That Linelle mentioned a lit lantern… there we go. Isn't that just a quaint picture?" Hawke joked gruffly as they passed on through to the back of Darktown, coming upon a shambling building with two lit lanterns that hung outside. Outside the clinic was a small group of sick-looking refugees, waiting their turn it seemed.

_'So the grey warden is a healer… but still a mage.'_

Fenris opted to hang back from the group as they entered into the clinic; it was surprisingly tidy considering where it was located. His lips turned into a stern line as the elf witnessed a human mage performing magic upon a young boy. His own body tingled against the magic that loomed in the air around them, causing him to inwardly hiss in discomfort. One wrong move from the mage and he wouldn't hesitate to cut the man down. Fenris' hands were ready to make a grab for the broadsword that hung so easily upon his back.

"I have made this a place a sanctum of healing and salvation, why do you threaten it!?"

Oh yes, things were going swimmingly. Fenris growled lightly, but Hawke was quick to interfere.

* * *

Since coming to Kirkwall and opening up the clinic in Darktown, the last few months had been draining. All of the refugees from Ferelden were sure to keep the healer quite busy. Running from the blight had caused many to leave all their possessions behind and so they came with nothing but the clothing upon their back and if they were lucky a pieces of silver in their pockets. Day in and day out he would open his clinic to the poor and with little payment he would heal those in need.

_'Helping these dredges is not a part of our plans…' _The familiar voice spoke in the back of Anders' mind as he was currently an arm deep in blood of a young boy. Thankfully the healer ignored the fade spirit. Those thugs that hung around Darktown had gone and attacked the child, severing a serious artery in the process. Thankfully he did not immediately bleed out due to his parents' quick thinking.

Wisps of healing magic transferred from his fingers as they repaired the severed artery. However, the boy was far from the dangers of dying in the cot due to blood loss. Hours later, and a number of lyrium potions, Anders had managed to suture together the nasty slash in the boy's chest and soon the boy gasped from the brink of death and looked around a moment before feeling his mother's warm embrace.

"Oh, Aeden! Thank the Maker! Thank you, healer!" The woman cried out almost at the brink of hysteria from nearly losing her child. A shadow of a smile graced Ander's lips before he stumbled back and turned away from the woman and child, feeling the husband catch his elbow and whisper his own thanks before attending to his family once more.

Anders merely gave a nod of acknowledgement as he grasped hold of the nearby staff against the wall and supported himself as he caught his breath a moment. He was utterly exhausted from that expulsion of power.

'_There are people here who threaten us!_' Justice warned in his mind. Anders could only inwardly sigh and wonder if it was more thugs to harass him or, Maker forbid, the templars had found him. The fade spirit within him bided him to fight for his survival. With renewed energy Anders twirled the staff in his arms and faced the intruders and found that it was thankfully not templars, but perhaps a group of thugs.

"I have made this a place a sanctum of healing and salvation, why do you threaten it!?" The blonde demanded of the group, eyeing them for a moment.

Something seemed off. They were not the usual thugs that hung around Darktown. Except for the elf in the back. That man just screamed intimidation and looked eager for a fight.

It was the leader of the group, a tall dark-haired man with an equally large sword strapped to his back. Thankfully he did not look as if he was there to fight, which put him a little bit at ease.

"Whoa there, we mean you no harm. Come in peace and all that." The man joked lightly with a small gesture that could have been considered to be comical. And normally it would have been something Anders would have snickered about, but perhaps under better circumstances. It was then that the dwarf that stood beside the human warrior spoke up for his friend as to the reason of their presence.

"We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads, and rumor has it you're a Grey Warden. You wouldn't happen to know a way?"

Andraste's perk tits! These people must have been barking mad to want to go into those blighted Deep Roads. Anders cringed slightly at their mentioning and lowered his staff in the process. They weren't wardens; he couldn't sense the taint within them. So why would they want to know how to get down there? Anders frowned sourly as he shrugged them off a moment.

"If you're working for the Wardens, I am _not_ going back. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat, poor Ser Pounce-A-Lot." Anders spoke with a soft huff, which warranted him more than a few strange looks.

"He was a gift...but that's not the point. Why do you want to go into the Deep Roads?"

When the group explained that it was for an expedition that they were planning, it did little to convince Anders. He scoffed lightly and shook his head. "I have no interest in going back into that blighted underground—"He began to utter but stopped mid-sentence as mumblings from Justice invaded that back of his mind. "—however, a favor for a favor seems fair. If you help my friend escape the circle, I'm afraid the templars are going to do something drastic to him."

With a little more explaining he was surprised to learn how sympathetic this Hawke was to the mages' plight. Or at least, for his friend. It was a nice little surprise indeed.

"I am not going to be helping this _apostate_." A deep and gruff voice uttered, which caused the rest of the group to go quiet and glance back towards the scary looking elf. Anders scowled himself at the term and gripped his staff tightly in his hand.

"All right, I understand Fenris. I'll just bring Isabella or Merril along."

"Hmph, do what you want. This will only end badly." The elf retorted before practically storming out of his clinic, hearing a few gasps from waiting patients.

Just great. Hawke was friends with a mage-hater.

* * *

Hawke had to be crazy to help that apostate! Fenris could only think that the man's judgement had been clouded by his own personal experience with mages. Namely his sister and his father. Wasn't any old entrance good enough for getting into those Deep Roads?

What had gotten to Fenris more, was that Hawke had visited him after helping that apostate and told him what had occurred at the Chantry. He wanted to not freak out if he and that Anders were paired together and if the mage would suddenly glow. The mage was an abomination. Not that Hawke said that, but it was the only thing Fenris could think. A spirit of 'Justice' possessed the mage. That was just another fancy way of saying demon.

When Hawke had left Danarius' mansion, he left a very disgruntled Fenris. The elf had drunken enough wine to be more than tipsy. And now he was upset. "Urrg… Maker take them!" he cursed loudly with a loud crash of glass against wall. There was just no way he'd take this lying down. Hawke did not know what he was getting himself into. Possessed mages were the most dangerous.

He could not just stand by and let Hawke make such a perilous mistake.

* * *

Anders had been crying. Ever since Hawke and the others had left his clinic. What had happened at the Chantry had affected him greatly. How could Karl have been made tranquil? He had never once tried to escape the circle in Ferelden! A model mage and the pride of First-Enchanter Irving.

_'He is free now.' _Justice spoke in his mind and caused Anders to sob all the more. He had ended Karl's life in the Chantry. His blood now stained his hands. For a healer he had so much blood on them! The familiar embellished pillow was hugged against the mage's chest as he quietly wept for his friend, when there was a bit of noise from the front of the clinic.

Another addict trying to get in? Or maybe another thug wanting to take what little supplies he had left? Anders quickly wiped the tears that stained his redden-eyes and grasped his nearby staff. Shakily he stood and swiped back the curtains that separated his room from the rest of the clinic and found a familiar elf standing in his clinic.

"…Fenris?" He spoke aloud with a slightly hoarse voice.

"Do not think I won't be watching, _abomination."_ The elf spat out towards him, with a bit of a slur in his voice.

He had been drinking it seemed. A rise of mild fear rose up as he wondered why the elf bothered coming all the way down to his clinic. Then it clicked. Hawke and told him. What in the Black City was that man thinking!?

"…I am _not_ an abomination." Anders all but hissed back as he gripped the staff in his hands. Hawke had also mentioned a few things about his elf friend and the mage was rather set on not having his still-beating heart literally ripped from his chest.

He watched Fenris warily as the elf half-way stumbled towards him, though made no motion towards the large sword at his back. Anders wondered briefly if that was a good thing or not. "Spirit or demon does not matter. I _will_ protect Hawke from you." He growled out before thusly falling forward against a very startled Anders who yelped out as he dropped his staff and caught the elf's shoulders.

Anders remained tense for a long moment and wondered if his heart would be ripped from his chest, but no such action occurred. He released a steady breath as he glanced down towards Fenris and noticed that he had passed out. You had to be _joking_! "Now what…?" He grumbled as he glanced around his clinic a moment.

_'I enjoy his song… keep him here.'_

That line of thought startled the mage greatly and wondered what it was that Justice was referring to until he noticed that his fingers were tingling with power. Those intricate tattoos that complimented the elf's skin were reacting to his touch and glowing. Hawke had mentioned the lyrium. "…Justice, stop being a pervert." He muttered as he pulled the elf over to a cot and laid him down upon it.

No choice, he'd have to leave the feral beast in his clinic for the night. How lovely!

Anders shakily sighed from the depression and exhaustion and fixed the front door the best he could. When that elf woke up he was going to make the bastard pay for a new door and lock! Done with what he could do for the night he shakily moved back to his own room and lay down upon the bed with pillow clutched in hand.

That night Anders had little sleep and by the time morning had come, Fenris was long gone from the clinic.


	5. The Wounded Coast Fiasco

**Author Notes: **I had hoped to try and get a chapter up a night, but work has been exhausting this week.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Wounded Coast Fiasco**

It had been a few of weeks since Fenris had done his little night-visit to the clinic, but Anders had decided not to inform Hawke about it. For one, the elf was highly intoxicated and was not thinking clearly. The other reason would be there was a tiny bit of respect he had for the elf's perseverance to his friend, no matter how ill directed it may have been. A part of Anders wondered if it wasn't the former-slave's conditioning to protect his 'master'. He certainly followed close to Hawke, like his shadow, whenever he was asked to tag along on whatever quest the warrior had found.

Being dragged around all the Free Marches reminded the mage of his time in the Wardens. It was not an entirely disagreeable experience for Anders, but the he had certainly thought that part of his life was over when he and Justice had merged. It was counter-productive to the mages' cause. Even now the fade spirit was mumbling complaints from the back of his mind that they could be doing something better with their time. Anders did his best to satisfy Justice's complaints as they walked along a winding path across the Wounded Coast for a mission given to them by the future guard captain, Aveline.

It was to eradicate a number of bandits or raiders from the area. Hawke had been eager for the chance of making some decent coin. They had their maps thanks to him, but still needed the necessary capital to help subsidize their expedition.

Thus far it had been a rather boring pursuit, with not a single bandit or raider in sight. Anders sighed loudly as he followed the group from behind. Hawke was in the lead, with his shadow close behind him. And there was a woman by the name of Isabella, who looked oddly familiar to him.

"You know, Isabella, do I know you from somewhere?" Anders asked suddenly as he walked beside the woman, finding the silence among the group to be unbearable. Well, besides Justice's annoyed murmurs in the back of his mind of course. Anything would do to drown that noise out.

The self pro-claimed pirate queen glanced over her tanned shoulder towards the mage with a familiar mischievous smirk gracing her lips. "Oh my, are you flirting with me Anders?" Isabella purred out with a soft chuckle as she fell into step beside him. She seemed to take a moment to ponder of the question a little more seriously, if Isabella ever could be. "Well, you're Ferelden right? Ever spent time in the Pearl?"

It was then that the enigma had been resolved and realization dawned upon the healer as he faltered in his steps. "That's it! You used to really like the girl with the gryphon tattoos." Anders chuckled at the memory of his time in the Pearl. Well, he had been working at Pearl at the time. It was during one of the many times he had escaped from the Circle. A little bit of prostitution wasn't something Anders had been ashamed of back in his youth, anything to earn enough money to keep away from the templars.

"Wait a tick, were you that runaway mage who could do that electricity thing? ….That was nice." Isabella purred out as she suddenly leaned in closer to Anders with a sultry, come-hither look she had so easily mastered eons ago. Anders laughed a genuine laugh and playfully pushed the female rogue away from him, cheeks burning lightly. In the corner of his eye though he could see both Hawke and Fenris watching them banter back and forth. Hawke seemed more amused than anything else and Fenris looked angry. But that was how the elf always looked, whenever he looked at him at least.

"Electricity thing?" Hawke inquired with a small tilt of his face and a raised brow. "Now _that_ is something I want to experience." The leader flirted blatantly with the mage. Anders really was flattered as his cheeks flushed all the more from the sudden attention on himself.

"Oh yes, and you can't forget my special Anders' Spicy Shimmy." Anders continued with a small quip as he eased back into the old routine of friendly joking and flirtation. It earned more chuckles from the group, except for the sour-puss who was ever vigilant on the path as the tanned elf moved forward ahead of them. Couldn't the elf just lighten up, even once? All that brooding, as Varric so eloquently put it, was rather annoying.

The group was quick to continue their way along the winding path, with Fenris far ahead of them for once. It was strange not to see him close to Hawke. "He's lanky for an elf, I like lanky." Isabella cooed into Anders' ear. Her warm breath grazed against his ear and caused him jump slightly with a soft yelp of surprise. The healer clutched onto his bladed-staff as he glanced over to the rogue with a quirk of his brow. What was she going on about now? "Oh yes, and the whole magic-fist in the chest would be so worth it?" He snorted in return.

"I could think of a thing or two he could do with _that_."

_'What does the woman mean?' _He could hear Justice ask from the back of his mind, distracting him greatly for a moment. He told the fade spirit that it was nothing more than additional sexual innuendo from the rogue.

"Trap ahead!" Isabella suddenly shouted from his right and caused Anders to snap from his inward conversation and look ahead of them. Fenris had been too far ahead of the group and set the trap off with a small explosion of barrels which had been filled with some kind of explosive. The elf disappeared in the detonation of smoke and Anders' heart almost stopped in that moment.

After the explosion had been set off the raiders swarmed from the brush on all sides. It was a lure, most likely meant for travelling merchants. But he supposed they thought picking off some exceptional equipment from their bodies would be just as good.

Anders concentration went into healer mode as he quickly began to fling buff spells in the direction of Hawk and Isabella. The rogue and warrior sprung into formation at flanking raiders and making quick work of them as Anders rushed over to the explosion site where Fenris had disappeared. But the elf was nowhere to be seen. Mild panic washed over Anders as he scrambled around to find any sign of the man, until Justice ushered him to concentrate on the fight at hand instead. The panic was quelled for the moment as he turned his attention back onto Hawke and Isabella, charging healing spells in their direction and the occasional blast of ice from the end of his staff.

It wasn't long after that the enemy had been dispatched and mild exhaustion washed over Anders. It had taken a bit from his mana reserves without the second warrior helping in the fray. "Where's Fenris?" Hawke asked as he trampled over to the explosion site, his body and armor caked with blood and other things that Anders did not really want to take the time to decipher. Isabella was not far along, looking just as drained and covered in blood. "Yes, where is Mr. Smolder? We could have used his help back there." The Rivani replied with a quick glance around the area.

"I don't know—there isn't a trace of him." Anders snapped worriedly as the group began to look around the ambush site. A small groan echoed from the nearby brush, which alerted the group and quickly scrambled over to find the broken elf. Maker, he was just covered in blood. And unlike Hawke and Isabella it was all his own! His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of the badly injured elf and Anders was quick to react as he lowered his staff and knelt down beside the elf.

Nimble fingers worked over the dark chest piece of the elf's armor, which earned another pained groan from Fenris. "Fenris, can you open your eyes?" Anders asked as his fingers worked over the leather straps and managed to remove the piece of armor and found his body was littered with lacerations and bits of shrapnel from the explosion. Among these slashes were the lyrium brands continuation and old scars were visable. "Maker's breath…" He mumbled as the healer pulled his satchel over to him and begun to desperately go through it.

"Is he going to be all right?" Anders heard Hawke ask from behind, a tremble of worry coming through the usually cocky warrior.

"I'm not sure. Just let me work!" Anders stated as he pulled out some of his own medical supplies from the pack. From behind him he could hear Isabella mumble some comforting words to their leader as she led Hawke away to give the healer and patient a bit of room to work.

The blonde's fingers moved to remove the shrapnel from the tanned chest, noting the moments of grimace from the elf. Good, that meant he was conscious. "Just stay with me, Elf." Anders would say with other comforting words he'd chant to his patient. Once the last bit of shrapnel was taken out the mage pulled out a bright-blue bottle of a lyrium potion and down the contents, the sharp taste burned the back of his throat.

Summoning the blue-green glow of the healing magic to his finger tips, Anders began to run them along the man's tanned chest to first heal the deep gashes. The lyrium brands reacted to his magic and a flash of pain shot across the elf's facial features. He always hated when Anders used his magic on him and now the healer wondered if it hurt him every time he had previous casted magic upon him. If it had, the elf hadn't mentioned it.

Most of the serious wounds had been dealt with and yet Fenris had yet to awaken. It could have been due to shock from the blood loss. Anders wiped the elf's blood from his hand onto his tevinter-styled robes before he ran his hand against Fenris' cheek. It was abnormally warm and clammy, indicating that he was quite feverish. A frown graced the mage's lips as former-slave cringed lightly. Fingers amerced themselves into the silver-white locks of, surprisingly, soft hair and Fenris surprisingly calmed down at the touch.

"How's his condition?" A masculine voice called out from behind and caused Anders to nearly jump and move his hand from the elf's hair as if he'd just been caught doing something naughty. "Ah—he's far from being fine. But I think he'll make it." Anders found his voice as he glanced back to find Hawke with that same worried expression on his face. He really did care about the safety of the elf. "We should get him back to my clinic to make sure…"

"No way, it's already getting dark and you looked exhausted. We'll make camp here tonight and get back to Kirkwall in the morning." Hawke stated as he moved closer to the healer and patient, effectively picking the elf up in a careful bridal style. "Come on, Isabella found those raiders' camp and I very much doubt they'd care if we used it." The larger warrior joked lightly as he moved with the bundle in his arms as if the elf were weightless.

Anders could only sigh wearily as he picked up the spent medical supplies before strapping the satchel and staff to his back. The mage stood with the piece of armor and unbelievably heavy two-handed sword before he followed after their leader towards the encampment that their pirate-queen had found.

The camp was as fairly simple as they came, a few tents with bedrolls and a dead fire pit lay in the center of the encampment. Isabella was working on rekindling life to the fire as Hawke laid the injured elf onto a nearby bedroll. Anders had followed suit and sat down beside Fenris and began to remove the rest of his armor until he was left in those leggings of his and a ripped, faded tunic.

Anders began to bundle the shivering Fenris in tattered blankets to protect him from the cold of both the weather and shock. He doubted that he'd be getting much rest, not with that elf making such pained expressions in his restless sleep.

* * *

Why did Hawke insist on bringing the abomination on such missions, he would never know. The elf had been more than annoyed when the human warrior showed up in the crumbling mansion of Danarius' with that mage in tow. He almost preferred having Merril along instead. Scratch that, they were both equally displeasing. But the so-called healer was the worst. Always the mage was with his excessive chattering, and usually about the stupidest of things. Like mage rights. Or it was about the 'injustices' of the Circle of Magi and Chantry. If it wasn't for Hawke, he would have just crushed the man's still-beating heart and been done with him.

But today had been unbearably annoying day for the mage.

Along the way to the Wounded Coast the mage insisted on pointing out the ironic names of the surrounding landmarks and areas of Kirkwall. Which, Fenris really hadn't thought about until. Surely the names were originally called by another name, but he did not voice this opinion and had instead opted for telling the mage to shut up. Which led to another small spat between the two of them, until Hawke and Isabella interjected and was quickly followed by a bout of blissful silence.

It unfortunately had been ended by the increased chattering of the mage. It had caused Hawke stopped in his tracks, which almost caused Fenris to collide behind the larger warrior. He gave a small huff in resignation as he too glanced over towards the duo behind them. An intense green gaze landed upon the mage in particular. It was almost strange not to hear something other than mage injustice spurt from his mouth.

He gave the slightest tilt as the 'electricity' thing was mentioned. He wasn't sure what it was, but it involved Isabella so it was probably something lewd. To think magic could be used for something other than pain, just did not seem possible. Fenris allowed his gaze to linger a moment until he caught a glimpse of amber look in his direction. The elf scowled angrily as he looked away from the small group and decided to trek on ahead.

_'Blasted abomination.' _

As the warrior continued to march on ahead of the giggling group behind him, his disposition seemed to sour even further. Isabella flirting with the mage was one thing, but Hawke was at it too. That man could almost be as naïve as that blood mage, Merril. Could he not see the potential danger of having that abomination around? He would just have to remain ever vigilant of the threat known simply as Anders.

It was then that something snagged against the elf's ankle and his entire body tensed at the familiar sensation of a trip-wire. Moments later he could hear the familiar voice of the rogue shout about the trap ahead of them, but it was far too late. Fenris shouted a curse as he braced himself for the explosion that soon followed. All he could feel was immediate sharp pain and then numbness as he made impact with the sandy ground, small branches, and even more dirt.

The pain began to subside as the numbness took over most of his body. In the distance he could hear the cries of fighting going on nearby. He opened his eyes slightly too only be met with a blurry existence and a sharp hiss of pain to escape him. The last fleeting images he could see before darkness overtook him were familiar molted feathers.

"Time to wake, my little wolf."

That voice, it was Danarius. But how was that possible? Emerald green eyes obeyed the voice as he realized he was in a large plush canopy bed. Dark brows scrunched together lightly as he lifted himself from the bed and scrutinized his surroundings. He was in the master-bedroom of the magister's home. At a glance of his form he could see he was quite nude. It wasn't uncommon for Danarius to bed him for a night, but to allow him to actually sleep beside him was an altogether strange occurrence.

"Danarius—?" Fenris muttered lightly as he glanced around curiously, but did not see the magister in the room. The elf crawled out of the bed and let his feet stand on the cool black-marble flooring that covered the majority of the manor. He sought out the remnants of his clothing but could find none upon the floor and frowned. Was this some sort of new twisted punishment from the older man? Had he displeased him in some way again?

Fenris took a few steps through the room and edged towards the hallway, but found not a single person there. Usually there were a few elf slaves doing the menial tasks of house-keeping. His footsteps faltered as he heard subtle whispering around him. The elf frowned as he looked around and yet saw not a sign of life in the manor. "…is this the fade?" Fenris questioned out loud before there was sudden pressure around his neck, the lyrium brands reacting as he cried out.

"My little wolf—in such a state. How shameful." Danarius purred out into Fenris' ear as the man continued to struggle against his master. The tevinter slave leaned back against Danarius as the hands that grasped his neck and slipped down his chest instead, activating the various blood-writing that covered the entirety of his body. The pain had been so intense that he couldn't even vocalize his anguish as he clenched his teeth tightly.

"Let us go to bed…." The same cruel and twisted voice called out to the almost limp Fenris in his arms. The white-haired man shook his head lightly but felt his feet move at the willing of Danarius' guidance. Soon he was toppled back upon the large bed and felt those lewd hands on his body, violating him over and over. Touching places he did not wish to be touched.

Before he would not have cared what Danarius did to him. But now it was different. He _knew_ he did not want this.

"Stop…" Fenris whimpered out as more whispers could be heard around him. Who was talking?

Danarius countered with a harsh growl and a sharp bite the elf's neck, causing a pained yelp to escape the slave.

_'Fenris, just stay with me.' _

"I said STOP!" Fenris shouted as he shoved the older magister from his body and jerked upright, only to feel more hands upon him. But it was different. This touch was gentle compared to the grabbing and pulling from Danarius.

"Fenris, you're okay. Just a nightmare." The voice called out softly and beckoned him to fully open his eyes to find that he was not in Tevinter and Danarius was nowhere around him. Fenris jerked at the touch and found a familiar sight of strawberry-blonde hair and stubble. The abomination.

"Calm down, you're in shock." The voice called out to him and gentle hands stroked his hair lightly. What was this abomination doing? Perhaps it was some kind of ploy to lure him into a false sense of security. Words failed him as he attempted to tell the man to stop, just coming out in grumbled murmurs before he gave up in a long sigh and closed eyes.

Moments later the warm and gentle hands left him and soon he felt a sharp-tasting liquid hit his lips, causing him to cringe and groan in complaint. It was a health poultice. "Shush, drink it slowly." The mage's voice mumbled to him and he complied with small sips. Warmth spread through his body as his eyes opened once more and brilliant emerald found shining amber.

"Hands off, _mage_." Fenris managed to spat out harshly.

He watched an unfamiliar emotion flit across the mage's features as he was released from his grasp and sat up on his own accord and glanced around the camp. Nearby Fenris could see Hawke dozing off by the fire and Isabella carelessly slumped on top of a bedroll.

"You're _welcome_." A voice grumbled sourly beside him and a pang of guilt washed over Fenris as he noted the fresh bandages wrapped around his chest and the faint scent of healing salves that the mage often concocted in his clinic. But he was sure not to show the guilt with a well conveyed scoff from between his lips.

The nightmare was fresh in his mind, but he could still remember the constant whispering in his mind. It was the mage, Anders, he knew. And that just irritated him all the more.

"Rest. I'll take over watch." Fenris suddenly spoke as he glanced over to the mage and noted just how exhausted he looked. The mage looked as if he were about to object but Fenris picked himself off the bedroll and took a testing step to find that he was sore, but well enough for light guard-duty. "It's fine, I'll wake Hawke if anything is amiss." He snapped towards the mage, more than he had intended but ignored the nagging from the back of his mind as he moved closer to the fire to where Hawke was slumped and sat beside the fellow warrior instead.

By the time he dared to give the mage another glance he found he had occupied the bedroll and slept with his back-turned to him. Fenris frowned lightly as his fingers grazed over the bandages on his chest. The mage had healed him and helped him. No doubt Hawke would be thrilled with this.

It had been only an hour or two by the time morning had come around and both Hawke and Isabella were surprised to find a mostly healed Fenris watching over them with a passed out mage in the nearby bedroll.

Despite the entire ordeal, the mage and slave were no closer to being called friendly.


	6. The Deep Roads Aftermath

**Author Notes: **Thanks to all of you that have reviewed, followed, and added my story to their favorites.

It warms me greatly to read them and look forward to more in the future.

* * *

**Chapter Six: **The Deep Roads Aftermath

Since the disaster of the Wounded Coast, Hawke had the implausible idea that Fenris and Anders would quickly become the greatest of buddies and insisted that the two accompany him on many of his excursions across Kirkwall and the Free Marches. This however had not been the case at all. The Elf, as Anders couldn't find the respect to properly speak his name, had been incredibly cold since then. Suspicious to no end with whatever he would say or actions he would take. Constant questioning that would eventually lead to heated arguments between the two. Usually over the stupidest of things; such what supplies should be bought or even over the third companion to join them. How Hawke was able to deal with the two of them, it wasn't clear. Varric suspected very large quantities of watered-down whiskey at the Hanged Man afterward.

When Hawke had comes to Anders' clinic about the Deep Roads expedition, the healer had been less than thrilled with the prospect. He hadn't wanted to go back to that blighted underground, not even when his time of the Calling came. Anders had eventually agreed to going, but made Hawke promise that the Elf could not come along. It was a rather petty request, but staying for weeks on end with the Elf would be a true hell. There would be a constant scowl on his broody face, which would always be directed towards him. And he would have to feel the man's glare burning into his back the entire time they were down there together.

Deep underground, enclosed space, with a savage anti-mage beast. No thank you.

Thankfully Hawke had already thought of bringing Bethany along instead. It had comforted Anders to know that Bethany would be replacing Fenris for this trip, but a part of him worried. The girl was younger than Hawke and much more innocent. The Deep Roads were not for the faint of heart. He had attempted to persuade Hawke to take someone else along, such as Aveline or Isabella—but he and Bethany were hell-bent on going together. Even the elf showed a little concern for the younger Hawke. Why the Elf could never show him a little of that concern was beyond Anders, until he remembered that he was an _abomination_ in the elf's mind. To which he would just scoff and offer a small curse as to why he even wanted that bit of concern.

When the Hawkes were going through their goodbyes in the merchant's district of Hightown, Anders was sure to keep his clinic open with the aid of some of the mages from the underground. They were a duo of apostates who were knowledgeable in the healing arts and it would have to be enough for the few weeks he would be gone from Darktown.

The expedition itself had started off well-enough. For being in the Deep Roads at any rate. But things went straight to hell when Varric's _wonderful_ brother Bartrand had betrayed them by cutting their group off from the rest of the expedition. It took them going through hordes of Darkspawn, thankfully none of them were of the sentient variety, and a few rock wraiths that were thought to be of dwarven legend. Learn something new every day.

By the time the group had gotten through the final treasury room, which was filled with plenty of loot that Hawke and Varric were after, it had been nearly a week. Anders thankfully memorized most of the maps and layouts of the known Deep Roads and knew where they were and was able to take the lead for yet another week. Low on supplies and exhausted from constant ambushes set by Hurlocks, Genlocks, and other creepy-crawlies of the Deep Roads, they were nearing the surface.

That was when Bethany had fallen. She had been oddly quiet for the last week, but Anders had just assumed it was due to the exhaustion and the entire dreariness of being stuck in the Deep Roads. It was when he finally was able to examine her closely that the former-warden noticed she had been tainted by the Darkspawn. He cursed himself for not being more vigilant! Justice made murmurs in the back of his mind about ending the girl's life, but he rejected it immediately. He would not have another innocent's blood on his hands.

It was a long shot, but Anders suggested seeking out some of the Grey Wardens that often patrolled the Deep Roads. It gave Hawke a little bit of hope. Some more Darkspawn death later and Anders stumbled upon a familiar group of wardens. It had been awkward to say in the least and they were more than reluctant to accept Bethany among their ranks. It took a little extra convincing, but they took her all the same. Hawke had been so relieved than it pained Anders.

_'She is still sentenced to death.' _The voice whispered in the back of his mind. But Anders just could not tell Hawke that. Not now. It would have to wait until after they reached out of the blighted Deep Roads.

Once they had all finally surfaced and reached Kirkwall—Anders still could not tell Hawke. It was just too harsh to tell the warrior that his sister may not survive the joining. Anders had to banish such thought and reassured himself that she surely would. She was a strong and capable mage. All Anders could say was that they'll know her condition in a few months and left Hawke alone to break the news to his mother. Oh Maker, he hadn't even thought about Leandra. She had already lost one child.

Shortly after parting ways with Hawke he was left with Varric, who was in an uncharacteristically foul mood. Though, being betrayed by family tended to have that kind of effect on people. "Sorry Blondie, I need to put some feelers out… you know." The dwarf spoke as he cradled his beloved crossbow and left the mage alone. Anders supposed he ought to go back to his clinic, but he just failed the strength to go there. He did not wish to see any of the sick or poor down in Darktown, not right now. Nor see any of the mages' underground. Just, not now.

Despite the rumblings of complaint from the back of Anders' mind, the healer ignored them and began to walk around Hightown. It was strange doing so without Hawke. Usually he spent most of his time in Darktown or Lowtown to gather his supplies for the clinic. It was getting late and so most of the streets were emptying out, even the Chanter's Board was desolate.

His mind was wracked with guilt about Bethany. He knew something like this was possible when Darkspawn were involved. But for it to happen to such a kind and innocent girl, it was terrible. All he had managed was to extend her suffering. She would still be tainted and plagued by terrible nightmares with whispering Darkspawn. Only to have been left to live with fight Darkspawn until her calling came in the next twenty to thirty years.

Amber eyes blinked as he found himself standing in front of the doors of a familiar mansion. The Elf. Had he really walked all around Hightown just to come to this place?

The mage's hand came up and hovered over the metal door-knocker that decorated the front door of the mansion. What was he doing? Fenris should have been his last source of comfort. The elf would merely scoff at him and may even kill him there for bothering him at night. For a moment Anders thought that wouldn't have been such a bad fate as his hand grasped the metal-knocker and struck it against the door once. His body tensed a moment as he held his breath.

After a few moments passed he let the breath escape past his lips. Anders realized how idiotic he was being and turned on the heels of his boots and prepared to make a hasty escape from Hightown.

"What are you doing here, _mage_?" The deep voice questioned from behind him. For a moment his entire body relaxed at the sound, but quickly he recovered and sheepishly turned back to find Fenris in full armor standing in the doorway of the mansion he so graciously squatted in.

"I don't suppose you'd believe I came by because I was merely in the neighborhood?" Anders replied with a half-hearted chuckle. His brows scrunched lightly as he fidgeted in front of the other man. He wanted to just desperately runaway and escape from the man's sight.

"Come inside."

Anders blinked in mild surprise by the offer, or was it a command? The healer hesitated a moment before he walked in after the warrior, shutting the door behind him. It had been nearly a year since knowing Fenris and he hadn't done a thing with the place. He was fairly certain the old corpses were still within somewhere.

"What happened?" He heard Fenris ask as they climbed the stairs in the direction of the master-bedroom of the mansion. It was strange to hear such things coming from the elf. Anders remained quiet for the moment and he contemplated what he should say to the man. Something like: Oh everything just went swimmingly, expect Varric's brother turned out to be a real bastard and Bethany was horribly tainted by the Darkspawn.

"Mage, did something happen to Hawke?"

Oh yes, of course he'd be worried about Hawke. It must have been why he was tolerating his presence in that moment. Anders glanced over to Fenris was a frown tugging at his own lips before moving closer to the crackling fireplace. "He's fine… It's Bethany she…." Anders found himself trailing off as he scrunched his brows together a moment and shook his head lightly. The mild look of shock passed over Fenris and alarm rose in Anders.

"She lives, I think. She had been tainted by the Darkspawn, we found some Grey Wardens to take her." The mage added quickly, but soon sighed regretfully afterward.

"You _think_, she lives?" Anders heard Fenris growl out towards him. He risked a glance and noted the rising anger in those emerald green eyes. He might just have ripped his heart out in that instant.

"There's no guarantee when joining." Anders spoke truthfully as he slumped into the plush-red chair near the fireplace and buried his face into his hands. "I'm sure she's fine, she's a strong girl."

"Stronger than you, for sure." Those words cut deep.

Anders gave another long sigh as he dared another glance towards Fenris and found that the elf did not look nearly as angry before. It was about the same amount of broodiness as he usually showed. He relaxed slightly at that and slumped further into the chair he occupied.

"I should have protected her better." He mumbled as he ran a hand over his face, exhaustion suddenly coming over him. It hit him that he hadn't been in such a comfortable piece of furniture in nearly three-weeks.

"Your actions probably saved her." Anders heard Fenris respond as he listened to the elf move across the stone flooring in front of him. "Why are you _here_?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that question as he wasn't quite sure why he was there either. Anders dared to crack a slight smile in an attempt to think of something witty or sarcastic as he removed the hand from his face and was met with Fenris' face at his level. The elf was knelt down in front the chair he occupied with some kind of foreign emotion feigning upon the elf's face.

"I…I'm not sure." Anders mumbled as he stared at Fenris a moment and wished desperately that the elf hadn't hated him so much. "It might just be because I am _famous_ for doing incredibly stupid things." He managed to quip with a faint smirk.

He heard the other offer a small half-snort that warmed and churned his stomach. It wasn't often that he heard Fenris laugh, even in the slightest. "I will not deny that, mage." Anders watched as Fenris shook his head faintly before he stood to his full height in front of him and suddenly remembered Isabella mentioning that he was quite lanky for an elf. And he would have to agree. The elf was good at causing quite the stirring within others.

A moment of awkward silence fell between the two and Anders forced his gaze off the elf and onto the nearby fire that flickered in the hearth. He could hear Fenris fidget nearby and he knew his presence was wearing thin on the other.

"I should go. I've avoided the clinic long enough." Anders suddenly spoke and stood from chair. There was a sharp intake of breath from the other which caused him to pause a moment and glance over to Fenris, but found that the elf seemed content with his decision. His stomach churned further at that.

Anders gathered himself together as he headed down the steps into the main hall of Danarius' former home. "Mage, if you want you can stay the night. It's late—you'll just draw too much attention to yourself." Anders couldn't believe what he had just heard from the elf. He stopped in mid-stride and glanced back towards the other to verify he had heard correctly.

"Have you hit your head?" Anders asked before he could stop himself. He noted the flash of anger over Fenris' face and regretted it immediately.

"No, can I not offer you a place to rest?" Fenris spat back rather angrily and Anders visibly cringed.

"How can I be sure you won't just rip my heart out? I'm rather fond of where it is." He quipped back in light banter and found himself leaning against the aged banister of the stairway. This seemed to catch Fenris off guard though he seemed to recover quickly.

"Just don't do any magic and you'll be fine, mage." Fenris snipped back.

Anders contemplated this prospect for a moment. He had to admit walking from Hightown all the way to Darktown in the middle of the night was not a very appealing journey. He was sure he'd run across a number of thugs, drunks, and maybe the occasional guardsman.

"All right—do you have some water for me to wash up?" Anders resigned as the mage travelled back up the steps towards Fenris. The elf tilted his face slightly and gave a curt nod before walking off to show him an empty bedroom and a functioning bathroom that wasn't nearly as dilapidated as the rest of the mansion.

His amber eyes looked over the granite-styled bathroom and whistled lightly at what he saw. "Squatting in the lapse of luxury really does have its benefits." Anders teased lightly as he turned only to find that Fenris was no longer there. "…hate when he does that." He murmured lightly and started to tug off his Tevinter styled jacket.

He turned to the water-pump that was located within the house and began to fill the basin. As much as Anders desired a long hot bath, that would be impossible. Cool, but clean, water filled the heavy porcelain sink. Anders took this time to strip away the sweat-drenched tunic to reveal an assortment of scars and mars upon his flesh, particularly around his collarbone and wrists from the long bouts of isolation within the Circle. The mage folded the dirtied tunic and placed it beside the feather-clad coat before loosening his blonde locks and grabbed a washcloth went about washing the sweat, dirt, and grime from his face and chest.

After cleaning himself up, and thoroughly turning the water brown, Anders went to his pack and sought out a fairly clean tunic to wear for the night and slipped the patch-worked cloth over his head to securely cover the markings. The healer padded away from the bathroom and walked in the direction of the main foyer, but voices caused him to hesitate and stop at the corner.

A deep and disheartened voice reached his ears and he was quick to recognize it belonged to Hawke. Of course he would visit Fenris. Anders leaned against the wall and miserably eavesdropped in on the conversation that was occurring from above. It really wasn't all that hard in such an empty mansion.

"You have my condolences about your sister."

"She's _not _dead." Anders' cringed at the desperation in the man's voice.

"I know… she's a strong girl. But she will no longer be here." Why must Fenris be so horrible at comforting?

Anders wanted to come out from around the corner and properly console his friend and ensure that Bethany would be all right in the Grey Wardens, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He was being cowardly, again.

"Mother was heart-broken… I should have listened to Anders' warning."

Oh Maker, he just wanted to desperately runaway in that moment. Further guilt washed over him as he nearly heard Hawke cry out in his anguish for loosing yet another sibling. Anders slumped slightly against the wall as he listened to subtle movement from the nearby balcony. Curiously the mage dared to peek and witnessed that the former-slave was offering a comforting hand. It was strange seeing the usually distant elf actually offer physical contact willingly. That just proved how much he really cared for Hawke.

"What matters is that she is still alive. You should go back to your Mother, I'm sure she would want…" Fenris started to speak but suddenly Anders witnessed something far too intimate. Hawke hushed the elf with a rather passionate kiss.

Anders felt an ache in his chest that startled even him. The breath hitched in his throat and he suddenly retreated from the corner of the hallway and back into the bathroom he had previously occupied. That was something he was _not_ supposed to see.

He stayed in the bathroom for what felt like ages, but he could not bring himself to leave. What if Hawke and Fenris were becoming a little more intimate? That would just be horrifying. Anders was no prude, he had plenty of trysts in the tower and not to mention his brief spell at the Pearl, but this was so much different. This was two of his comrades in a very tender and heated moment. As time ticked on Anders paced the bathroom and wondered if he could just slip out of the house and make it back to the clinic. It seemed the best option.

The mage moved to slip back on the Tevinter-styled coat and bundled his pack together and slung it over his shoulder with his staff. "Okay, just quietly slip out the front and Hawke will be none the wiser…" Anders mumbled as he reached the bathroom door, only to hear a sharp knock, causing him to yelp and jump nearly ten feet into the air.

"You all right, Mage?" Fenris' voice called out from the other side.

Anders' entire body tensed and mind reeled. Was Hawke still in the mansion? Or was Fenris going to throw him out so he could continue his escapades with their leader? Anything was possible with the elf. Well, he would just beat him to it then and tell him he'd changed his mind and would go home after-all.

He opened the door and was greeted with the visage of Fenris' and that broody scowl still on his face. It was hard to believe he had just shared a passionate kiss with another only a little while earlier. Anders paused and found himself staring at the other far longer than he had intended.

"Thanks for the use of your bathroom…." Anders finally managed the words as he brushed past Fenris and quickly headed into the hallway. "…I'll be headed out now. The clinic is probably in quite the state." He quipped lightly and avoided Fenris' intense gaze.

"Mage?"

"Besides, if I stay here your mage-hating reputation would be at stake." He joked once more, ignoring the sound of what appeared to be concern in the elf's voice. Anders quickly escaped down the hallway, listening to the following footsteps of Fenris, but the elf had been far too slow and Anders all too familiar with running away.


	7. Blanks in Memory

**Author Notes: **Shorter chapter this time around, just some morning after-events for Anders.

**Chapter Seven:** Blanks in Memory

* * *

When Anders woke the next day he found that he was back inside his clinic. Amber eyes fluttered open and were met with the remnants of a half-melted candle. He offered a half-tired groan as he lifted his face and smacked his rather dry lips. A few pieces of parchment clung haphazardly to his scruffy cheek before finally fluttering down onto the desk he was currently occupying. Anders scrutinized the papers a moment and realized that they were parts of his manifesto that he'd been prone to writing for the mages' underground movement.

It was strange that he hadn't a memory of how he'd gotten to Darktown from Hightown that previous night. The mage made a small groan of displeasure as he stood from the little hovel of a chair and felt his entire body pop and crack in the joints of his legs, arms, and not to mention his back. He sighed softly as he shuffled away from the broken-down desk and towards a basin of fresh-water and dipped his hands into the cooled water. He scooped the water into his hands when he noticed that the water wasn't nearly as clean as he had thought. It was tinged with crimson.

It was blood.

Mild panic washed over Anders as he quickly removed his hands from the basin and noticed that it wasn't the water that was bloody, it was _him_. The front of his clothing was covered in blood! Maker, what had happened last night!?

'_Templars tried to stop us last night, I took care of them.' _The fade spirit mumbled in the back of his mind and ice seemed to run through Anders' veins at that. "Why can't I remember?" He asked aloud in minor distress to the spirit and was met with momentary silence before Justice finally decided to answer with a very simple, '_You were too exhausted to fight them yourself.'_

It seemed to put Anders at a little ease, but it was still a very frightening thought that Justice could just take him over without any memories of the ordeal. What if one day Justice just took completely over and he was gone forever? But that line of thought was quickly banished as he affirmed that Justice would never do that to him. They were friends and comrades in the fight for mage rights.

He started to strip out of the layers of clothing then, mentally grumbling about falling asleep in such grime and gore. Down to his smallclothes the mage gathered up his clothing and went about to properly laundering them as he cast a winter's grasp spell into a small barrel and then melted the ice with a jet of fire from his lithe fingertips, causing the water to steam a little.

Anders dunked the bloodied tunic and breeches into the steaming water and started to scrub and scrub at the clothing, but it seemed that the damage had been done. The dark-crimson stains had long set into the fabric and no amount of magic was about to get them out. At least his jacket had been spared from the gore from the fight. Anders refreshed the water and fetched his pack from the Deep Roads expedition and went about cleaning the dirtied clothing as well.

He spread the wet clothing out on a makeshift line he had set up in the clinic and decided he could at least make use of the clothing once the dried, for bandages and the sort for the clinic. Satisfied with the wet clothes on the line Anders went into the small private room, which was separated by a curtain in the back, and fetched himself some clean clothing.

Anders found that he was down to his last clean tunic and breeches; most of his clothing was often sacrificed to create makeshift bandages during the long days of working the clinic. With his shares of the profit from the Deep Roads expedition he would have to buy some new clothing from a shop in Lowtown, not to mention some new equipment and more medical supplies for the clinic.

With fresh clothing on Anders left his little hovel in the back of the clinic and wandered back to the front and slumped down into the chair in front of his desk and glanced around at the scattered papers. Most of it was his manifesto but there was one that was something out of his handwriting, a list of supplies. The two mages he had left in charge had been recording what supplies were used. It seemed he'd have to go about fetching more resources for potion making as well.

A long sigh escaped Anders as he went through the list and his hand absently moved over to the desk as if he were about to pet some kind of invisible creature. Damn he missed his Ser Pounce-A-Lot. Anders frowned then and placed the list down and gathered his written manifesto into a neater pile and pulled out his stylus and a battered book. It was a brown leather-bound book with the word Journal etched in a faded gold on the spine. It had been yet another gift from his past that he allowed himself to keep.

He opened the journal to a fresh blank page and started to write about the events of the Deep Roads down. It had been Solona Amell who had given him this gift so many years ago while at Vigil's Keep. Since then he had gotten into the habit of writing the more significant details of his life down, almost a little memoir of his adventures. One day someone may find it interesting—considering the content of the journal. It seemed a life time ago that he had been a Grey Warden at the Vigil and even longer when he were a Circle mage. He felt so old sometimes.

The stylus paused after he got through the summary of the trails of the Deep Roads and of when they returned. What had happened when he returned? He remembered reaching Kirkwall—but then it was a blank. Had Justice taken him over right afterword? Anders' brows scrunched together in an attempt to remember what had happened, but it was completely blank. He must have run into the Templars right after parting with the rest of the group. The stylus began to record once more, writing of Justice's role last night and his fleeting thoughts of the matter.

He could not help but feel that he had left something _important_ out.


	8. A Heart To Heart

**Author Notes: **Another short chapter, sorry folks.

But a Fenris chapter this time!

Next time will be a Wicked Grace scene, because every DA2 fic needs one.

* * *

**Chapter Eight:** A Heart to Heart

Fenris had been left in a fairly confused position from the previous night that both Hawke and the mage. He currently occupied the worn out high-back chair near the smoldering hearth in the master bedroom with a freshly opened bottle of spiced wine to his right. The elf's thoughts were on both of the men that had been rendered into dismal messes from that cursed expedition into the Deep Roads. They had achieved riches just as they wanted, but at what cost?

Fenris had actually felt a speck of sympathy towards the mage when he saw that wretched expression on his face and those amber eyes shamefully averted from his. The scruffy mage looked like some kind of kicked puppy, or kitten as the mage would have been preferred to be called. But what startled him more was the fact it gave him a small sick thrill to see the mage in such a distressed state.

A frown tugged at his lips and turned into a small sneer as he grabbed the bottle of wine and pressed the glass rim to his lips. Fenris wasn't sure if he was more upset with himself for wanting to dominate over the mage or having any kind of feelings at all for the abomination. He took a long draft from the bottle and enjoyed the smooth burn at the back of his throat. Perhaps if he drank enough he'd be able to forget those conflicting emotions.

"Hitting the bottle a little earlier, don't you think?" A voice called out from the entrance of the room. It was Hawke. The other cause for these conflicted emotions he was currently feeling. Fenris lowered the bottle from his lips and wiped the back of his hand against his lips.

"Hn, considering I haven't slept this is just the right time." Fenris retorted back as he finally dared to take a glance in the human's direction. He could see an array of emotions on the man's face, which did nothing to sate Fenris' on his own confliction and frustration.

"I see. I came by to apologize for last night."

"Apologize for what? You were upset about Bethany." Fenris shot back with a grumble as he felt his entire body tense when the other warrior moved further into the room and occupied the space in front of his hearth.

"It's still no excuse for attacking you."

There was a certain pain in the man's words at this and Fenris had to contemplate his own feelings about the matter. It wasn't as if it were his first kiss. It was probably the most enjoyable one he'd ever experienced. Considering Danarius was the only thing to compare it too.

"It's something I am used to, Hawke." Fenris finally replied after a full moment of silence, a dark chuckle following. This seemed to cause the other warrior to visibly flinch and Fenris frowned. He had just compared Hawke to Danarius and his companion knew this.

"You worry too much, its fine." Fenris reassured him as he cradled the bottle of spiced wine between his calloused hands. He averted his gaze away from the other and focused it upon the bottle as he smoothly rolled the bottle between his palms.

A small sigh echoed through the room as Hawke occupied the other chair across from his own. He could feel the intense stare coming from the other and Fenris shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had a sudden urge to stand or pace, but Hawke wouldn't allow this as he finally spoke.

"The lyrium bands, did they hurt last night?" Again it was about his branding.

Fenris remained silent for the moment as the scowl deepened on his features. He had already told Hawke that he was fine about what occurred last night. Why did the man refuse to let the matter drop? He dared a glance and his heart-ached at the expression he was making.

"…You know you could let Anders take a look at them."

"I am _not_ allowing that abomination anywhere near me!" Fenris snapped as he clutched the bottle in his hands, stopping himself from chunking the wine at Hawke's head. So that was what he was so _concerned_ about?! He had gotten his hopes up only to have that bastard flaunt the mage in his face again. He should have known that Hawke wouldn't want some broken former-slave.

"But he might be able to help you remember." Hawke had attempted to reason but was successfully silenced with the bottle of wine shattering against the stone-wall of the fireplace as Fenris' temper got the best of him at last.

"I said no."

"Fine—I don't suppose you'll be up to a game of Wicked Grace tonight? Varric wants to celebrate finding a few buyers for our treasures." The man quickly changed the subject, knowing that if he were to continue with his line of questioning he'd wind up on the floor with his heart in the elf's hand. Not a pretty sight.

Fenris calm down with the changing of the subject as he crossed his arms over his armored chest and contemplated a moment. "Sounds like a fine idea—Perhaps I'll be able to win back some of my coin." He retorted as he slumped back into the chair with his sneer turning into a lessened frown.

"You actually think you'll be able to win your coin back from Isabella? You're better off just having me loan you the money." Hawke joked with a hardly laugh.

The laugh put Fenris more at ease as his body relaxed further and allowed a soft half-chuckle to escape past his own lips. He stood from his seat with a slight stumble with Hawke catching him by his elbow to keep him balanced. Fenris mumbled a word of thanks as he glanced up towards the other warrior with a tense moment of silence. He wanted to desperately feel those strong lips against his, but instead he walked Hawke to the mansion's entrance to bid him farewell.

He would just have to forget what had happened last night. It was nothing more than a fluke and it would be impossible between them. Not with his past and those lyrium bands burned into his flesh.


End file.
